Elizabeth drew a sharp breath, and Darcy felt his heart drop, a chill passing through him. “I am not engaged to my cousin, sir.” His tone was firm, intended to discourage further comment by the strange man.
“But sir!” Mr. Collins protested, “your noble aunt insists it is so. You are to unite two great estates. What will your cousin do if you fail to fulfill your duty to your family—and to her?”
Darcy offered a stiff smile. “My aunt has long cherished such a union, but the matter is settled only in her imagination. My cousin is an heiress and may marry where she chooses.”
“But—”
“Mr. Collins.” Darcy’s expression hardened. “My affairs are my own, and you will kindly cease assuming your involvement.”
The parson spluttered but offered no reply. Instead, he turned to Miss Mary and launched into a discourse on Fordyce’s sermons. The lady did not appear to welcome the conversation.
“Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth asked with urgency. He rose at once. Miss Mary cast a look of alarm in her sister’s direction. A silent exchange passed between them, followed by a subtle nod. Whatever message had been conveyed, Darcy could not decipher it.
They gathered their things and left the house for the garden. Most of the foliage had perished with the cold, save for an abundant patch of hellebore. Darcy admired winter roses. They bloomed from December through March—a welcome burst of color when the weather was often cold and gray.Elizabeth would appreciate that,he mused.
“I must apologize for my cousin, sir,” Elizabeth said desperately. “He has been in residence but a day, and already we tire of his presence.”
“He is your father’s heir?” Mr. Darcy asked, though the truth was plain. Why else would they receive someone so objectionable?
She nodded. “He comes with an olive branch,” she murmured. “My mother hopes to pair him with Mary.” Her cheeks reddened. “I cannot repeat her reasoning. ’Tis unkind.” Her eyes dropped, and she absently shifted the leaves beneath her boots.
“Mrs. Bennet’s opinions are her own,” Darcy assured her. “I intend no disparagement upon your sister, but I believe I can surmise your mother’s logic.” It appalled him. Mrs. Bennet clearly placed great weight on superficial traits, much as his father had once done. Surely, she sought to secure a match for her plainest daughter with Longbourn’s heir. “And how does your sister feel about the matter?”
“I hardly know. Mary’s reaction just now suggests she finds Mr. Collins’s company tedious. I have not shared my mother’s sentiments with her—I would not wound her so.” Elizabeth looked worn and troubled.
Darcy offered his arm, and they strolled the path. After a time, he said, “She deserves to know.” He added nothing more. Elizabeth, he trusted, would understand. His father had tried to hide his own distaste for the mark upon his son’s face. The effort had only compounded the hurt.
“Mary has been subject to my mother’s unkind remarks for years,” Elizabeth murmured after a moment of silence. “I believe she is immune to them now.”
“No one is ever immune. One may grow accustomed to horrid treatment—numb, even—but words still wound.” He knew he sounded bitter and made no attempt to conceal it. Had he not already told Miss Elizabeth he was used to others behaving as though there were something wrong with him? The wine stain had darkened with age, and with it, the distaste of others had only increased. That anyone should scorn another for a defectentirely outside their control was beyond his understanding. Thank heavens for gentlemen’s fashion—cravats and high collars concealed the largest patches of dark red skin along his neck.
Elizabeth sighed. “I shall speak with her tonight,” she vowed. “Mary is a perfectly lovely person, though a little pedantic at times. ’Tis unfair to place this burden upon her without her consent. Oh, Mama will be livid if…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
They walked in silence for a moment before Darcy cleared his throat nervously. “Bingley is hosting a ball,” he said after a moment. “I would be honored if you would dance the first with me.”
She turned and looked up at him, beaming. “I would be pleased to!” she replied, her delight unmistakable. “I dearly love to dance.”
Darcy could scarcely believe it. He let out a breath he had not known he held and grinned. “I look forward to it.” They returned to the house, hoping for tea after their time in the cold. In the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet hovered over the tea tray, prattling about balls and fripperies while she poured.
“Jane is an excellent dancer, Mr. Bingley,” she said. “You will not regret partnering with her for two sets.”
Before Bingley could answer, Mr. Collins interrupted. “I flatter myself that a clergyman may enjoy such delightful entertainments on occasion. I, too, anticipate your glorious event, sir. In fact, I should like to take this moment to solicit the hand of my fair cousin, Miss Mary, for the first two sets. Indeed, I hope to secure a set with each of my cousins.” He turned and offered Miss Mary a smile of such obsequious warmth that she recoiled slightly before granting her reluctant acceptance. Once assured of the first set, Mr. Collins proceeded to request a set from each of the remaining sisters.
The gentlemen departed soon thereafter. Darcy listened quietly as Bingley chattered, his thoughts drifting to the many events of the past days. Wickham was gone. Miss Elizabeth had agreed to allow him to call…I shall write to Georgiana.Perhaps she will come to Meryton.Upon reaching Netherfield, he retired to his chambers and composed a letter, determined to send it with the next post.
Dear Georgie,
I have much to tell you. Indeed, our cousin may have already shared the news before this letter reaches you, but I shall not delay.
Wickham is gone. He appeared in Meryton, the small market town near Netherfield Park, and I sent word to Richard at once. Our cousin came without hesitation, and the blackguard is now safely confined in debtor’s prison. My dear sister, he cannot harm you any longer. You are free. I am free. At last, webothare free.
I want you to join me in Hertfordshire, dearest. I believe you would find the neighborhood much to your liking. There are young ladies of your age, and you would have the opportunity to meet Elizabeth. She is a remarkable woman, and I believe her warmth of spirit would surely benefit us both. Will you come? Richard might escort you, or I shall fetch you myself once Bingley’s ball is concluded.
Did I tell you? There is to be a ball at Netherfield Park on the twenty-sixth of November. Bingley has flustered his sisters by insisting upon it and then demanding the preparations be completed in haste. He wishes to dance with his angel. I believe he will marry Miss Bennet, though his sisters oppose the match. They make a handsome pair, and I wish him every happiness.
Write to me soon, and we shall make all the arrangements.
All my love,
